tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66281462423288715622024-02-19T05:31:30.746-05:00Adventures in Etsy Land... And Beyond!My Life as Nanny, Seamstress, Wife, Aunt, Woman & Reader (in no particular order and not excluding one million other names I like to call myself)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-5479311125154743902011-04-28T16:08:00.000-04:002011-04-28T16:08:03.641-04:00Ceclia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">My Grandma Cecilia has fascinated me all my life; depending on who you ask, she died just days before or days after my birth. I prefer my mom's version, of course, which insists that her mother held on long enough to make sure I, her 49th grandchild, was okay. Growing up, I slept under a quilt Granmda had made. I even lived in her house, with Grandpa, during the last years of his life (he was amazing, and so much fun--my memories are really vivid, despite the fact that I was about four when he died, but that's a story for another day). I played with Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls the Grandma made. I learned to sew on a foot-powered sewing machine that she had once used. (For any relatives reading this, it was not The Sewing Machine that plugged into a wall and seems to have taken on an almost religious significance. I don't remember who has The Sewing Machine, but I'm sure it's someone who would not allow a ten-year-old to take it apart to see how it worked/why it did not work consistently.) Eventually, I knitted with wooden needles she had owned. I wrote poetry about her in college, after learning that she read insatiably, even textbooks, despite having ended her formal education somewhere near the eight grade, although I can't remember exactly when she is supposed to have left school to do chores for a stepmother who was, by all accounts, actually mean enough to qualify as a "wicked stepmother," and looks the part in ancient photographs. I doubt that Cecelia would ever have said anything like that herself, but it's pretty easy to glean from the stories her relatives told during my Aunts' family history project (again--another story).<br />
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I'm writing about my grandmother for three reasons--1) I recently told my four-year-old niece about her, 2) Peggy Orenstein wrote a blog post that made me think so intensely that my "response" turned into this and 3) I will interview my mom at New York City's Story Corps booth on Mother's Day, and she's gathering information about her mother so that she'll be able to answer my questions.<br />
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1) My niece is only four, and the idea that Mommy and Tia had a nana, too, which means that her Nana Rose had a MOMMY is totally mind-blowing. I started telling her about it, though, because I took her to a fabric store with me for the first time to pick out a pattern and fabric for a new dress (I've been sewing dresses for her since she turned 2, and I knit her a sweater when she was born). I then had to explain how one goes about making a dress, unfolding the pattern and showing her the shapes of all the pieces. She deserved a good answer to the question "Tia, can you make my dress today?" Since we were talking about sewing, I decided to ask her:<br />
"Mira, can I teach you to sew one day?"<br />
"Sure." (Not really listening.)<br />
"It's really important to me, because Nana Rose taught me how to sew, and her mommy taught her how to sew." (Now I had her attention.)<br />
"Nana Rose's MOMMY?"<br />
"Yep. My nana. Her name was Cecilia. I don't really remember her, but your mommy does."<br />
"Where is she?"<br />
"She died, sweetheart."<br />
"Why?"<br />
"She was old and she got sick."<br />
"Why?"<br />
"That is just something that happens when people get old."<br />
"Okay. Why?"<br />
"I don't really know."<br />
"Okay." (Pause.) "Tia? Did Nana Rose have one mommy?"<br />
(Confused.) "Yes... everyone has a mommy."<br />
"Well, my friends Eleanor and Katie have two mommies and no daddies."<br />
(Ah.) "Oh, I get it. Nana Rose had one mommy and one daddy."<br />
And we moved on to an art project that could, in fact be completed TODAY and not in a future that hardly exists for a four-year-old.<br />
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2) Peggy Orenstein is a journalist and mother whose recent book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cinderella-Ate-Daughter-Dispatches-Girlie-Girl/dp/0061711527/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1304020193&sr=1-1">Cinderella Ate My Daughter</a>, examines childhood, especially girlhood, as it exists now. That's a terrible summary of a really gorgeous book, so you should just go read it. Her blog continues many of the conversations her book begins, including several threads about toys, specifically, dolls. <a href="http://peggyorenstein.com/blog/girl-crushthe-lennon-sisters">Her most recent post</a> inspired a wave of wonderful nostalgia for me, and my response grew to ridiculous lengths for a comment, and is now here:<br />
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My sister (Holli with an "i") loved Holly Hobby and Raggedy Ann, and her kids will grow up with the original images of both: Holly Hobby and her male friend/brother? What's his name? They are, respectively, on a mug I found, vintage, made in the year Holli was born, affordable because it had once been cracked on the handle and repaired (I've never even been able to find the repair). Mirabai eats snacks out of it regularly (it's plastic, not ceramic, and therefore not too heavy).<br />
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But Raggedy Ann is our family's Queen of Nostalgia. My grandmother made dozens and dozens of Raggedy Ann (and Andy) dolls by hand (fewer Andys survive--I think fewer were made). Red yarn for hair, inexpensive blue fabric dresses, red and white striped legs and big lovely black cloth vaguely boot-shaped feet. These days, they're harder to find, especially for us younger cousins, most of them having been played with until they fell apart. Cecilia would eventually have 52 grandchildren, although I was the last one she knew about (there are 3 after me), and it seems like she made a set of dolls for just about everyone. We can date the dolls by their faces: earlier dolls have perfectly embroidered features, while later editions have faces painted on with fabric markers, evidence of aging hands. My sister lost hers during a lifetime of moving around (she attended either five or six elementary schools, back when Dad was a musician), and then, almost like a miracle, Raggedy Ann came back to her. Holli's teenage friend Nancy had been our grandparents' neighbor all her life and had received a precious Raggedy Ann from our grandmother. Her own mother obsessively kept everything in their house perfectly preserved, even the toys, which I distinctly remember not being allowed to touch when Nancy and Holli were in high school and I in preschool, tagging along over to Nancy's house whenever Holli was forced to babysit me. Over fifteen years later, word reached Nancy that my sister had had a daughter. The news traveled all the way from Australia, where Holli was living at the time, to Minnesota, where Nancy still lives, and this excellent friend lovingly packed up her perfectly preserved Raggedy Ann, and oh so generously sent it to my sister, despite having had daughters of her own. Raggedy Ann now sits on top of a bookshelf in Mirabai's room, and my niece can tell anyone who asks that she is very old so we can't get risk getting her dirty. She may or may not remember that Mommy's Nana made the doll, given that the concepts of Mommy having a Nana and her own nana having a mommy seem absolutely absurd and impossible. I made a connection just now, though, between something I learned yesterday and that doll who watches over our baby girl: my aunt said in an email "Mom [my Grandma Cecilia] wanted as many children as she could have" and something along the lines of "because she thought motherhood was her vocation." I also learned that my grandmother felt guilty if she wasn't doing something with her hands at all times. I firmly believe that she poured all of her love for each one of those children (15) and grandchildren (52, now), and great-grandchildren (we gave up counting) into the things she made, especially those dolls.<br />
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3) After I interview my Mom, I'll write another post about what I learned. I can't wait to record so much of our family's rich oral history. And now, I will make sure to ask about the toys Grandma made. Were there others, besides Raggedy Ann and Andy? Does anyone know how many she did make? And, finally, how on earth did she find the time?! </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-41899219487994166322011-03-28T11:29:00.000-04:002011-03-28T11:29:08.056-04:00The Watchful NannyI read an article a long time ago in the New York Times in which the writer confessed that she had fired her nanny after reading said employee's blog. It's a great hook, but there was a lot more to the story, of course. Her nanny was including personal information about the family in her blog, and narrating her own exploits in New York's Clubland, including miriad drugs and vivid descriptions of sexual encounters. I am against the blog as a diary, a record of every single thought that passes through the writer's head (see the current controversy surrounding the UCLA student who video blogged a racist rant about Asian students in the university library) because I think it encourages an unhealthy lack of perspective. Another sticking point was that the nanny was blogging while the children were playing nearby. But this is not the reason the writer spent a sleepless week over her decision to fire her blogging nanny. The blog actually narrated the nanny's complete disregard for her employer's privacy. In any office, an employee blogging about the details of a fight she has overheard between two higher-ups would probably be fired immediately, assuming she was found out. So why was this so agonizing a decision for our journalist mom?<br />
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The nanny-mother relationship is just frought with emotion, and, of course, the feelings of small children are involved, small children who should not know that Nanny had to go away because she was having crazy drug-addled club sex and, what's worse for the family, detailing Mommy and Daddy's marital problems online for all to see. And this brings me to perhaps the most important realization I have ever had as a child care provider: I don't WANT to be "one of the family." Isn't it just obviously better for everyone if I am an employee, and not a faux family member? The idea of children in the loving arms of someone who is as close as possible to family is a lovely idea! But really think about what happens when your sibling or parent takes the kids. Are they CPR certified? Are they going to give your children their complete, entire, full attention? Do you expect them too? They're doing you a favor! When I am paid as a nanny, I am at work. I ask permission before using the internet during the child's nap (as I am doing now). I ignore phone calls unless it's clearly going to be a short call that is necessary/informative. <br />
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Now, I do not ignore my sister's kids when I'm babysitting them! But I will give my niece candy without asking Mom and Dad if it's okay. I don't feel badly about letting her watch another episode of Dora if I need to change her little brother's diaper, make dinner or just talk on the phone for a few minutes. I do not stop paying attention to my beloved young relatives, but I take some liberties I would never take while caring for children I'm not related to. There's a reason for this beyond the obvious (I can't get fired from being an aunt!)--if I ask an employer's opinion about everything from pacifiers to nap time schedules to what foods she prefers her child eats, then I am showing respect for her as the parent. Leaving your kid with someone outside the family can be scary, even if you've interviewed and background-checked like crazy first. You don't need the added stress of wondering if the nanny is doing things her own way without consulting you; there is a thin line between caring for a child and trying to parent somebody else's kid.<br />
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I do hope that I don't sound terribly preachy or sanctimonious, here, but it has just been SO helpful for me to think of my job as similar to any other paid position and to pretend that I do have a supervisor nearby at all times. I want to share my philosophy. It has probably gone over really well in interviews, but before I had fully articulated this idea, I sometimes felt uncomfortable without knowing why. Now, I know that by asking about every little thing, I can cover some ground that Mom might not remember to cover, and I get to feel totally comfortable knowing that if Mom or Dad walk in at any moment, I can feel proud of the care I am giving their child. (A note: I have thus far interacted with moms pretty much exclusively during the hiring process, and this is the only reason I have often excluded Dad from this post.) I also find that no parent is ever annoyed at me asking too many questions about how they want their child cared for. It's the best way I know of to express the enormous respect I have for these people who have taken on the awe-inspiring task of producing and raising children. If anything, I have even more respect for a parent who asks for some outside help--it takes guts and a lot of planning, and the decision often represents a very healthy assertion of the parent's need for grown-ups-only time!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-5863693243054758432011-03-17T14:56:00.000-04:002011-03-17T14:56:27.787-04:00The Germ Problem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Very wealthy families have gotten a bad reputation, probably well-deserved, for refusing nannies any kind of collective bargaining power or at the very least a real contract. I learned about this in Manhattan--nannies fired for becoming ill without warning and nowhere to go. Of course, I was a babysitter putting myself through college when I lived in Manhattan, so if I lost a job, then I'd eventually find another, and I knew it. I was not, for example, an immigrant from the Caribbean in her fifties caring for three grandchildren at night, at home, and one or two wealthy white children on the Upper West Side during the day, earning less than minimum wage. Mine were never the problems of poverty. The problem that I face, along with the families I work for, is not life-or-death, but rather, logistical. Nevertheless, it is a real problem, and one I have no solution for.<br />
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I am in bed as I write this, with a cough that will not let go. My lungs feel shredded, especially in the mornings. It's a virus--I have no fever. But I've been sick for almost a week. Each day, I have hoped I'd be well enough to work. Each day, I have had to tell these families, sometimes much later than I should have, "No, I cannot come today." Now, if I worked in an office, three problems here would cease to exist: I'd get paid sick leave, the company would be equipped to cope without me and I could go back to work still coughing, and just tell my coworkers to use hand sanitizer. But most families don't have a backup babysitter, so they are forced into a kind of scramble for child care when I cancel. I don't get paid when I cancel. I can't "tough it out" for fear of getting the babies sick, too. And I have seen this--babies always have it worse. It's miserable knowing that you may have gotten a child so very sick who cannot even blow his nose yet.<br />
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And so, I miss the children I cannot see, for fear of passing on my germs. I earn no money, which is obviously a problem for my family, as my husband's income is not enough for two. And, more importantly, sleep-deprived moms must scramble to make a boss understand or round up another babysitter at the last minute. It's a depressing day, despite an excellent book and very cuddly cat.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-25401036406691586062011-03-05T13:28:00.000-05:002011-03-05T13:28:16.750-05:00Milestones Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">In case this isn't already completely obvious, I want my own baby quite desperately. It's just not time, though, and one cannot make a change like parenthood in a hurry! So I feel all the more privileged to spend so much time around other families. I'm learning a lot about motherhood and babies.<br />
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When I come home, though, my puppy--oh no! I should say "my dog"! He's a year old now, and not a puppy anymore! Well, my dog, Lewis, is my baby when I come home. The picture you see over on the right there shows me and my baby when he was just three months old. He gets all kinds of cuddle time and (healthy) treats and lots of long walks. My big sister's awesome dog adores the kids but seems to miss all the attention he got when he was the only baby. Lewis is getting all kinds of fun mommy & daddy time, including training, while my husband and I still have time and energy to give him our full attention. This is my gorgeous Lewis now (he's half Beagle and half Australian Cattle Dog, a breed we had to research--see the post "Before Adoption" for more of his story!):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWpUKkwovDQQbCMMsQqVsN5CoZl_KvVfTR3kHHOT571zdV22D-MpOkiguhJPQJIO5ZefSysuQi6F1KUcO4F3fxCdrzjuNmYHe580D7tRy1cfoTTa6FMa_57CaqR4IpLsz_7i4Ig7GW6D8-/s1600/24petwatchphoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWpUKkwovDQQbCMMsQqVsN5CoZl_KvVfTR3kHHOT571zdV22D-MpOkiguhJPQJIO5ZefSysuQi6F1KUcO4F3fxCdrzjuNmYHe580D7tRy1cfoTTa6FMa_57CaqR4IpLsz_7i4Ig7GW6D8-/s320/24petwatchphoto.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-71777851403215483782011-03-05T13:19:00.000-05:002011-03-05T13:19:28.041-05:00Milestones<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have the privilege to care for an infant, heretofore known as G, who is not only completely adorable (you'll see a picture as soon as her mamma gives me permission to post one) but smiles all day long! Well, she did smile all day long until her very first tooth started poking its way up. It seems that every time I spend a day with her, something brand new happens! Pure joy! Recent milestones include:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;"><li>First tooth is suddenly visible! I can feel it too, if she decides to start chewing on my finger. I try to discourage this behavior, but she's very crafty.</li>
<li>She pointed for the very first time EVER! And I got to see it! Sweetest part? She pointed at a picture of her big sister when I brought her up close and asked her to show me Sister (P). Then, she did so on command when P came home from preschool! I got to see her point, a huge developmental milestone, but I also got to see P's big smile at this proof that the baby knows her, loves her and misses her when she's not home.</li>
</ul>The family is going away on vacation for a two whole weeks, and I'm going to miss my little G so much! When she comes back, she'll have even more super-cool skills to show off. I can't wait to see her grow some more. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-34375678866781280852011-03-02T12:57:00.000-05:002011-03-02T12:57:57.865-05:00New Adventures!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;">After much painful <span style="font-family: inherit;">consideration and hours of thought, I left a PhD program in English. To do what, you ask? To do anything I could find that actually made me happy. You see, it occurred to several relatives (I was a bit slow to catch on), that I was compiling "incompletes" left and right because, perhaps, I did not actually WANT to do my work because it was not actually something that I enjoyed doing anymore. Officially, I took a "leave of absence." I think I took a leave of absense, but I remain unsure as to whether the paperwork has actually been completed, having had no response from various departments who need to sign said paperwork. Whatever their computers say, I no longer go to graduate school.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I did get the point when loving relatives staged a sort of intervention, begging me to find a way to, well, be less miserable, and, what's more, I immediately realized that I was less miserably, nay happy, even, when I was babysitting! Admittedly, I had a really, really hard time accepting this as a new career. I told myself that I was already babysitting part-time, I could do more of it and make money until I "figured it all out." Since then ("then" was early January, by the way) I have become... dare I say it... a happy person! Not only am I happy sometimes, but I am happy most of the time, because I am always doing something that I choose to do! It's miraculous, and I wish everyone in the world had the privilege of feeling this way. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It might be a bubble. It might be a honey-moon period. I might just be ecstatic not to be writing papers anymore or, for that matter, grading papers. Maybe playing with blocks and rocking babies to sleep will lose its luster, and I'll come crashing back to earth. But right now, the baby I am caring for is stirring from her nap, and I am just so happy to be going to pick her up and hold her in my arms!</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-67654683858364833872010-09-20T00:06:00.000-04:002010-09-20T00:06:43.500-04:00A Blog Feature!Hi everyone! Well, I have been distinctly unproductive lately, because I've gotten myself all wrapped up in a silly game--who knew there was a gamer buried underneath all those layer of book-reading girliness? I would like to share this excellent news, however:<br />
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The amazingly productive blog 360 Handmade has featured my work! Go on over and <a href="http://360handmade.com/2010/09/19/jack-russell-terrier-small-felt-sculpture-by-amtonyan/comment-page-1/#comment-764">check out the post</a>! My Jack Russel and I are both very flattered.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-51478991396637431532010-09-14T19:35:00.000-04:002010-09-14T19:35:56.187-04:00Project Shopping!Okay, so the kids' clothes are requiring a lot of patience--not the sewing part, the waiting! I have to wait for the licensed tags and to hear back about the buttons I want and to get photos of kids wearing the clothes. I think I have decided to make one of each piece and then offer made-to-measure versions for the other sizes that will require waiting. I just don't have the capital (money or time) to invest in making one of each outfit in each size. Now I have to figure out which box the other patterns are in (we're still unpacking!) and *then* I can order fabric and thread. Phew. Too much waiting!<br />
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I did decide that I had to start soon on some aspect of this project, so I did a little shopping... Do I need an excuse? No. But I have one. I've decided to do some edging on the dresses with a little old-fashioned crocheted lace. This is something my maternal grandmother did prolifically. We're talking doilies, yes, but the woman crocheted entire, HUGE, tablecloths with just a teeny steel hook and small cotton crochet thread. I learned to crochet with the tiny hook and thread awhile ago, but lost patience before I finished anything. I have decided, however, that I will follow through. I am going to use this awesome pattern I found, emailed to me in .pdf by Etsy seller <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/ResourceQueen?ref=seller_info">ResourceQueen</a>. This lady has some seriously awesome vintage finds, especially when it comes to patterns! Here's the one I'm going to use (a picture of it--if you want the pattern, you'll have to buy the file from the shop).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnFk2ad_PK1KdmcdBfMzqnMNLE6Yc2PLd4mq1wwW1E9JXiuapjzkMHMadiYxeQwCPBjWQO0WEfjFfxDg3W5RsbDFGswxTd0q_XTe9Ok3yDLzIIPUJ9MJwVoMYqZLI8QZ5Dr9gW-jeo3Pn/s1600/Page+from+Crochet+Edgings+1925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnFk2ad_PK1KdmcdBfMzqnMNLE6Yc2PLd4mq1wwW1E9JXiuapjzkMHMadiYxeQwCPBjWQO0WEfjFfxDg3W5RsbDFGswxTd0q_XTe9Ok3yDLzIIPUJ9MJwVoMYqZLI8QZ5Dr9gW-jeo3Pn/s400/Page+from+Crochet+Edgings+1925.jpg" width="338" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I plan to make the first three until I run out of thread and/or lost my patience and/or eyesight. Aren't they gorgeous?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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I did not stop there, of course. I was not content with plain old white cotton thread. I bought hand-painted, variegated super-thin beautiful thread from Etsy! Okay, admission: I am really bad in craft stores and cannot be trusted. I go into some kind of trance, I think. Once, my husband called my cell phone, because he was worried about me--that's how long I'd been gone! It really is better for me to buy handmade, even if it does mean a bit more waiting. Ready to see the thread I bought from the oh-so-talented <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/LadyShuttleMaker?ref=seller_info">LadyShuttleMaker</a>?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_StoPxVz-C6DUPwRD4TXCRzBQ-JRIK_0eiEXpu5K_ySnG0B3lLKVPbnBGib_jtI2ybkVaGF15wys_WLCtrTPIv1pU6rVwrpLeaPt92GPIwRqB13Ogn95xYYz60AIm958ki7xbi3QTSg8s/s1600/hand+painted+yarn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_StoPxVz-C6DUPwRD4TXCRzBQ-JRIK_0eiEXpu5K_ySnG0B3lLKVPbnBGib_jtI2ybkVaGF15wys_WLCtrTPIv1pU6rVwrpLeaPt92GPIwRqB13Ogn95xYYz60AIm958ki7xbi3QTSg8s/s400/hand+painted+yarn.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's a color (colors?) called Helms Deep--isn't it incredible? I can't wait to make adorable lace with this beautiful thread!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-28300758777957985732010-09-11T10:48:00.001-04:002010-09-11T10:51:07.411-04:00Amazing Video from Etsy!<object height="225" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=11891877&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=1&color=&fullscreen=1&autoplay=0&loop=0" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=11891877&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=1&color=&fullscreen=1&autoplay=0&loop=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"></embed></object><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/11891877">Howard</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user2401669">Julia Pott</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
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Follow <a href="http://www.facebook.com/reqs.php#%21/Etsy">Etsy on Facebook</a> for more weird and awesome treats... Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-41415072348973679022010-09-10T21:06:00.000-04:002010-09-10T21:06:55.107-04:00Latest Etsy Purchases...Since I've gotten more involved with Etsy, I've been doing more shopping! Obviously, the things I bought aren't up for sale anymore, but you should still check out the amazing shops they came from.<br />
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I was checking out a blog I love and saw <a href="http://etsyitemoftheday.com/jeweleee-etsy-accessories-crafts-vintage-turquoise-hand-painted-wooden-beads/?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+EtsyItemOfTheDay+%28Etsy+Item+of+the+Day%29">these beads</a> one day. Well, I'm not sure how I'm going to use them, but I'm determined to do it. I think the vintagey wood texture will look amazing next to something needle-felted and fuzzy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggzNmQteM_mLPFix1-zit92EWoCOBZRHKn01GfaSUKU6Da4yoo02CDzR008AiEaJu2aa9j4qh5q3XEzYQNKNH6ZfniOVADmGRYIafo105RhQCsiuU6cEtVtbI2YZLArZKk258iVdIeHr33/s1600/Jeweleee+beads+purchase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggzNmQteM_mLPFix1-zit92EWoCOBZRHKn01GfaSUKU6Da4yoo02CDzR008AiEaJu2aa9j4qh5q3XEzYQNKNH6ZfniOVADmGRYIafo105RhQCsiuU6cEtVtbI2YZLArZKk258iVdIeHr33/s320/Jeweleee+beads+purchase.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>So, I bought those today. They're from Etsy seller <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/Jeweleee">Jewelee</a> who sells beads, yes, but also makes/sells amazing jewelry pieces you'd never expect with beads like this.<br />
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And I bought something else today, but that was a gift; I'll have to wait until it's been received to post it...<br />
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A couple days ago, I was putting together the treasury I posted about, and selfishly bought something I found instead of including it! I was searching for "aqua" (the beads are also aqua... my color lately?) and found this gorgeous piece:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDojodHpoVIM2BAfuv_6DmCzHOKpkSgIOPdgrJWN9sPklY-PdgBys7Y4VUsOD28ciBkmdvp6b1Yu84PRoXVUrCJbOsrnNQsyNohg0woheosu1v4QH26aYqjB7UkXgHChBdm3AsHtdxKXKQ/s1600/dress+purchase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDojodHpoVIM2BAfuv_6DmCzHOKpkSgIOPdgrJWN9sPklY-PdgBys7Y4VUsOD28ciBkmdvp6b1Yu84PRoXVUrCJbOsrnNQsyNohg0woheosu1v4QH26aYqjB7UkXgHChBdm3AsHtdxKXKQ/s400/dress+purchase.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><br />
It's so Gatsby! Can't you just see Daisy or Jordan wearing this on the hottest day of the year? It came from a treasure trove of a vintage shop called <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/GreenEyesVintage">GreenEyesVintage</a>. If you ask me, that is the perfect name for the shop--aren't you already jealous that I snapped up this gem? There are amazing deals here, too. Check out her Under $10 section!<br />
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This last item is one I bought a little while ago, but absolutely needs a mention. I bought it for my husband as a congratulations present for starting his PhD in philosophy. Yay, Nathan! It comes from a shop called <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/jamjamtees">JamJamTees</a>, where a Canadian husband and wife team designs tees with a truly ingenious sense of humor. Did I mention I love Canada? I do. I grew up in Northern Minnesota, so it's almost the same thing, without affordable health care or Crunchie candy bars. But I digress. The tee--Ready? Get set? Laugh!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf3Z_EFyJw8L1i0eYjWJlAM-GqojpfLrDE5-mvbcWZON91YHXGdjybUgpbnC3noFYjQ8_vrXqk8A9Vn6kIgcnQdoJ-AF1lISgMs4msviWqzc5Dl4BpI3Fz_WjIV_MikscidX649fKIcmHf/s1600/Nathan's+tee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf3Z_EFyJw8L1i0eYjWJlAM-GqojpfLrDE5-mvbcWZON91YHXGdjybUgpbnC3noFYjQ8_vrXqk8A9Vn6kIgcnQdoJ-AF1lISgMs4msviWqzc5Dl4BpI3Fz_WjIV_MikscidX649fKIcmHf/s400/Nathan's+tee.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Well, that's today's installment of my Etsy shopping addiction. Goodnight, folks!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-59466016828057406642010-09-10T11:06:00.004-04:002010-09-10T12:23:31.965-04:00Front Page treasury! and a Blog Feature!I haven't posted in such a long time, I know, but I moved to New Haven, CT and started a street team here and started a new school-year this August. (please take a look at our team blog--<a href="http://elmcityhandmade.blogspot.com/">elmcityhandmade.blogspot.com</a>)<br />
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I have exciting news to share, though, and this time it is actually Etsy-related. My recent treasury made it to the Front Page yesterday, and while *I* didn't see it, the comments tell me it looked pretty good! It's made of beautiful things that inspired me to feel nostalgic about college and studying abroad. Since I now live so close to Yale and know two beautiful young women just starting college at Barnard, my alma mater, I wanted to make a college treasury. Take a look!<br />
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<a href="http://www.etsy.com/treasury/4c87ea2c1c9e8eefa7bf809d/study-abroad?index=0">http://www.etsy.com/treasury/4c87ea2c1c9e8eefa7bf809d/study-abroad?index=0</a><br />
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Here's what it looked like when it was on the front page: (thank you <a href="http://craftcult.com/">Craft Cult</a> for your awesome <a href="http://craftcult.com/vault.php">Vault</a>!)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWigkOiqReIOCSimDD082bJwvHjb68caklw2Wxe6mkdA5v-SDgkxruUtsBYSZ1svW6HbP3A-dCb-EtpOq04Yf0W1Q-c46niZeA7lcHXDa6h9eJ_hDGihPAjGFPIzvBxbOZZr53_F1-8qb/s1600/fp_14002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWigkOiqReIOCSimDD082bJwvHjb68caklw2Wxe6mkdA5v-SDgkxruUtsBYSZ1svW6HbP3A-dCb-EtpOq04Yf0W1Q-c46niZeA7lcHXDa6h9eJ_hDGihPAjGFPIzvBxbOZZr53_F1-8qb/s640/fp_14002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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I'm also totally flattered to have my cake topper featured in Etsy seller extraordinaire <a href="http://maddyannedesigns.blogspot.com/2010/09/modern-wedding.html">MaddyAnne's blog</a>. Her features remind me of Anthropologie's web layouts--they're so beautiful! Only, they feature handmade things, so they're a million times better, of course.<br />
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My Jack Russell is about to be featured in another blog, so an update about that will follow soon!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-63062183949160896112010-05-09T09:35:00.000-04:002010-05-09T09:35:57.039-04:00Mother's Day, of courseIt's May 9th, and I have a great many women to thank today. I also think I'm being a little bit silly for this, but I feel like a mommy myself a bit this year... I did get up extra early to take care of my baby boy! Yes, I know he's a doggy. No, I won't become one of those dog owners who treats her dog like a child. He's still not allowed on the furniture, after all! I did give him an extra-yummy treat, though; it's a present from my dad and step-mom in Minnesota, so I thought it was appropriate.<br />
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But this post is not supposed to be about Lewis. Here are the mothers I have to mention today (oh dear, I might tear up a little...).<br />
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My mom. My mother has two daughters, my sister and I, but we've been grown-up for a little while, now. Like most moms, she's heard a fair bit of criticism from her daughters, and she did make her fair share of mistakes while we were growing up. To her credit, she takes responsibility for (most) of her mistakes. She says "I'm sorry," when we need her to. The two most important things about my mom though, are (in no particular order) that she has always done her very best as a parent and that she has always loved us with her whole heart and soul. When I think of my mom, I think of her amazing hands--soft, a little wrinkled now, but always kind. Mom never went to college, and she stayed at home with us. My sister is eleven years older than I am, so that's a lot of years of working as a mom! I can't speak for my sister, but I know that I was certainly a lot of work! She and my dad went through one of the uglier divorces I know about, but she is now very happily remarried. (I love my step-father! More importantly, he loves my mom times a million!) She is now a certified Montessori teacher. Her new job not only pays better, but it also allows her to mother all kinds of preschool children who just love their "Miss Rose"! Now, my mom is not old in years or in spirit, but she is probably past the average age of people starting their own businesses. That hasn't stopped her! She is starting her very own Montessori school! I am glowing with pride, today.<br />
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My sister. I can't say enough about how magical it has been to watch my sister become a mother. She was always a mother-figure to me, full of amazing advice about clothes, boys, life. She took me on most of my college visits. She talked me through my first heartbreak. But being motherly to a much younger sister is one thing. Being a mom is so much more! She has a three-year-old daughter and a three-month-old son. She's a professor of psychology. She works harder than anyone I know! Since her son was born, for example, she has had to help her oldest work through the transition ("back-sliding" in potty training, extreme tantrums that may even top the ones I threw as a kid) and she also had to watch, nearly helpless, when her daughter ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. But she is calm, kind, patient and, as always, feisty and tons of fun! I am in awe of this amazing woman.<br />
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My step-mother. Where to begin? She adopted and raised, I believe it was six, children, all of whom suffer from fetal alcohol children. While she has never had biological children, she is an incredible mother to these adopted girls, all of whom are grown. She was a maternal figure to many of her students while she taught middle, then high school. She took care of her first husband during his struggle with early-onset Alzheimer's, an extremely rare and terminal condition. After his death, she married my father. Although I was about to leave home for college when they married, she has been an excellent step-mother. I am most grateful to her, though, for the love she has shown my father. A couple short years after they married, my father began to show signs of mental illness. Soon, he could not work and is now on disability. My step-mother retired after a very long career in St. Paul schools, but her retirement hasn't been easy. Still, I have never seen her without a smile; she lovingly cares for my father without complaint or resentment. She sees her mission in life as one of care-taking, something she told me during my last visit. On top of all of this, she makes time to speak with other women whose family members suffer from Alzheimer's. What an inspiration!<br />
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I have to add one more woman to this list. I recently reconnected with an aunt on my father's side after a ten-year gap in communication. She, too, has suffered from mental illness for a long time; she and my dad suffered through terrible childhoods, which has taken its toll. Genetics must play some roll as well, or so I believe. My aunt also survived two extremely abusive marriages. For a few years, she even had to bear not being able to speak to her eldest son. We lost touch for many reasons, but not because either of us wanted to "lose" the other. Now that she's in my life again, I am so proud to say that she has managed to achieve a calm, healing life and healthy relationships with all three of her children. This incredible woman lives by the philosophy that she must take responsibility for her actions, no matter what the circumstances surrounding them are. It is that philosophy that has made her relationships with her children so beautiful. I cannot express how much I admire my aunt! She says that children and, now, her grandson, are why she keeps working on herself--she wants to be the best mother and grandmother she can be. After everything she has been through, that resolve shows just how amazing she really is; it would be easy for her to say "it's no my fault" and make excuses. Instead, she takes on the harshest truths and works on what is inside her control--herself. I have always found that talking to her feels healing and wonderful. She's a bit like a mom to me, but she's an amazing mom (and grandma!) to her immediate family.<br />
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I could go on to talk about countless other women I admire who are mothers or have been my mother-figures, but I'll end this post here. I love Mother's Day, because it always inspires me to be a better woman, to live by the example of the women who have come before me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbMmjWb5i2SVAE0k5Eya2B0n4_Di5EgODr0nbDZyLxV5fHDF5n_RnhMQwds05MIDZdQn-4cGyIBvxmgoRpuqUY0rTxc3NH3EhWwHkMh__iJvhC8IhhFYilsSABfflEqKU5vhabupRiv1K/s1600/IMG_3939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbMmjWb5i2SVAE0k5Eya2B0n4_Di5EgODr0nbDZyLxV5fHDF5n_RnhMQwds05MIDZdQn-4cGyIBvxmgoRpuqUY0rTxc3NH3EhWwHkMh__iJvhC8IhhFYilsSABfflEqKU5vhabupRiv1K/s400/IMG_3939.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>My niece, my sister, me and Mom on my wedding day (March 20, 2009). I'm holding a bouquet that my mother made for me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-5131250507347569932010-05-08T00:36:00.001-04:002010-05-08T00:37:39.442-04:00Two Weeks InIt has officially been two weeks since we adopted Lewis; this makes him 10 weeks old! We have already seen changes in him. He's much more confident, which is good and bad. Our vet said that it would take about two weeks for Lew to believe that he's really ours, that he's not going to be moved somewhere else shortly. Evidence of increased confidence? Trying to push the limits!<br />
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At first, Lewis backed off when our adult cat, Dinah, hissed at him; he now tries to play with his "sister" about ten times a day. If I weren't concerned about him losing an eye, this would be kind of hilarious! Having learned a little bit (ok, a lot, I'm obsessive with the reading about dogs) about how dogs communicate, I think I can break this process down.<br />
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Step 1: The Approach. "Oh look, the black and white one! I will come up and wag my tail to show that I am friendly!"<br />
Step 2: An Invitation. "Hmm. The black and white one does not respond! I know, I will invite her to play!" Now, dog invitations to play are fascinating, because they're extremely formal. Given that dogs play by rolling around on top of each other and sniffing various body parts, the formality of the invitation strikes me as adorable. A submissive doggie will come up to another dog and "bow," or slide his front legs forward until his little chin is near the floor and his little waggly tail and butt are way up in the air. This may be, and in our house often is, followed by a few high-pitched, friendly barks.<br />
Step 3: Repeat the invitation and bark more.<br />
Step 4: Prance in an arch, maintaining the same distance, but never break eye contact to cease tail wagging.<br />
Step 5: Just go up and try it, despite having received no reciprocal invitation to play. "Play with me! Play with me!"<br />
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He just can't stand that this third family member will not play, and he just cannot be patient! He's a baby! Now, our cat is 12. Before we adopted her, she was an indoor/outdoor cat and, according to her former owner, saw her fair share of fights. This animal is not something she fears. Nevertheless, she is absolutely unwilling to let him inside some sort of circle that she has drawn around herself in the sand. If I were Dinah, I wouldn't let this thing near me, either! They're about the same size, and he's clumsy, smells funny (to her), licks/nips at everything and runs a lot. Besides licking me, my two pets share almost no common interests!<br />
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Now that Lewis is more confident with his new family, he is more confident about approaching Dinah. And he does it more often. Given that his tail doesn't stop wagging until someone yells at him, I would guess that the poor thing has no idea that Dinah wants nothing to do with him! This is stressful if a) he won't stop, despite commands or b) the cat approaches him just to taunt him and then hisses/swipes at him.<br />
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This little dance seems to become more intricate daily, so I wanted to record what it looks like now. We'll see what happens! Please cross your fingers with me that Lewis does not end up with a scratch on the eyeball...<br />
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Here are some photos that show the progression of an approach by Lewis (unfortunately, I did not manage to capture the amazing "bow"):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh718GWQeaIYFc3aEta_MBTBkqBzZMxRMnTpzdU1YMNHaoBRMGRZG-dsPIFb9HKa0QF0fzbL-wSi5LktCwPgPTk2tHTNNxWOHe9qrGBMm6j06yAf9ONZJkD6F49_JRsz0ScI1TTsfwD3xMH/s1600/CIMG0204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh718GWQeaIYFc3aEta_MBTBkqBzZMxRMnTpzdU1YMNHaoBRMGRZG-dsPIFb9HKa0QF0fzbL-wSi5LktCwPgPTk2tHTNNxWOHe9qrGBMm6j06yAf9ONZJkD6F49_JRsz0ScI1TTsfwD3xMH/s400/CIMG0204.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9AW1emgDDT8pn1cdLvfYcUk9TJINvnlQqyOL4gBr5uKt9HUaSAW0PCVA_AqtbLBzz4pIzhptkjTY4yN5ovHewzY9VzuxXQoCAJJMfZ751iUmPVbMDyMqw1yYP2q27fMtkzDxWpvMmcgHl/s1600/CIMG0206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9AW1emgDDT8pn1cdLvfYcUk9TJINvnlQqyOL4gBr5uKt9HUaSAW0PCVA_AqtbLBzz4pIzhptkjTY4yN5ovHewzY9VzuxXQoCAJJMfZ751iUmPVbMDyMqw1yYP2q27fMtkzDxWpvMmcgHl/s400/CIMG0206.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj37Ps1BG__jnyjWPaaTa_wKulGQ0k16trcctiqjEnNgIL4WNsJlpGPhfPwrn1GoLwGNp0GiMcqBk-EjRTubWWYtOYvqKm6Xg71BfJcviJL-0-EaWOYkOuCKJvulBkt1uu2CsmsoA6JUkm7/s1600/CIMG0207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj37Ps1BG__jnyjWPaaTa_wKulGQ0k16trcctiqjEnNgIL4WNsJlpGPhfPwrn1GoLwGNp0GiMcqBk-EjRTubWWYtOYvqKm6Xg71BfJcviJL-0-EaWOYkOuCKJvulBkt1uu2CsmsoA6JUkm7/s400/CIMG0207.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkflfRS5xSGwIXkbawRL2TEEHOyOBEEyR1KbHx7IV0JWUGDnKA3CwJlC9Qdf5Nr7l1NAnvZO8v-cS8NlwC6_onJmbb3wRsZUofOTq6xH0rGmMcAbuAbzy0BVXWIGpj7zGo-XhLMEkONB4v/s1600/CIMG0209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkflfRS5xSGwIXkbawRL2TEEHOyOBEEyR1KbHx7IV0JWUGDnKA3CwJlC9Qdf5Nr7l1NAnvZO8v-cS8NlwC6_onJmbb3wRsZUofOTq6xH0rGmMcAbuAbzy0BVXWIGpj7zGo-XhLMEkONB4v/s400/CIMG0209.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>"See, I'm submissive, play with me!" "NO." Fortunately, Lewis did not choose to move any closer. If he had, Dinah would have held her ground and given him a good, swift swipe across the face.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-89625529574690509202010-05-05T12:27:00.000-04:002010-05-05T12:27:57.573-04:00Life Before AdoptionWe adopted Lewis when he was just eight-weeks-old, but the puppy and his family had already had very eventful lives! His mother, Kandy, a tri-colored beagle, was found with her six three-week-old puppies in a small town in Virginia and brought to a crowded Humane Society shelter. From there, the dogs were transferred to East Hanover, New Jersey, to the Mount Pleasant Animal Shelter and placed with a foster family. Although they had received medical attention, their foster family soon noticed that something wasn't quite right with Kandy. On closer examination, the animal hospital quickly realized that poor Kandy had a small bullet lodged in one of her paws! I have no idea how anyone could have abandoned this beautiful young dog, let alone managed to shoot her! Of course, the crime remains unsolved. Kandy, however, bounced right back from her surgery.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhND3UJbDgwcb6LEvMFG6ypYuHHwKpQWf43sW7rK36Fs7E_myDK3kEc40nRGvNkF42KTEfvRdrpGPsDwjQ-2of1y2uYHFogPomB3Z_Um3mOlWgO0VEGz8cTQ023IeCYYfsAiKqqM7PKRJqx/s1600/Kandy+%26+Pups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhND3UJbDgwcb6LEvMFG6ypYuHHwKpQWf43sW7rK36Fs7E_myDK3kEc40nRGvNkF42KTEfvRdrpGPsDwjQ-2of1y2uYHFogPomB3Z_Um3mOlWgO0VEGz8cTQ023IeCYYfsAiKqqM7PKRJqx/s400/Kandy+%26+Pups.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Here's Kandy and her litter in their play pen! Three puppies from a father who was probably and Australian Shepherd or Australian Cattle Dog and three from a father who was probably a Chihuaua. I had no idea that dogs could have litters with multiple fathers, but apparently this is quite common. Our Lewis is right up front, sleeping with one paw sticking out of the pen. Mount Pleasant was kind enough to send me these pictures after we sent them our "Happy Tail" and pictures of Lewis with his forever family.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YVfl0vlsVIRSApQkkioSXUKu5mpIRi29IbWqYMhakBRB-qwAbDW2g57KHEG3Jm5E3Xzd43V8-_hy0wPuBkiijtWViLeIQi1hXwl_ejcyunjfrEGlq9Wvg7uZPYl6xKtOeANtrBtpNqdo/s1600/Kandy+%26+Lewis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YVfl0vlsVIRSApQkkioSXUKu5mpIRi29IbWqYMhakBRB-qwAbDW2g57KHEG3Jm5E3Xzd43V8-_hy0wPuBkiijtWViLeIQi1hXwl_ejcyunjfrEGlq9Wvg7uZPYl6xKtOeANtrBtpNqdo/s400/Kandy+%26+Lewis.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Lewis and Mommy<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPlujSPpue63_1b6ihu5StaJcfAtZJuCfYXl4xrcexB2G16nvwpgSGT6fUfHA3O6BAH94RQCw2yydGXATATvSiSA2Q9cBNqg6FFKnHsotqLR9Ih9P4VA6idN06n-xEH8CwUuSCuF_Felr/s1600/Kandy+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPlujSPpue63_1b6ihu5StaJcfAtZJuCfYXl4xrcexB2G16nvwpgSGT6fUfHA3O6BAH94RQCw2yydGXATATvSiSA2Q9cBNqg6FFKnHsotqLR9Ih9P4VA6idN06n-xEH8CwUuSCuF_Felr/s400/Kandy+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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The beautiful Kandy (now adopted!)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLw5TkLobxkote4q8LdVyIMnbTWeF6IN6N3Yk-PeCWAtS6huaFw6WcEXy8ZI_3XuNyZbtEnAyvjpcss9UJLiJuq5hqrz_cq0mC4Y03d5gSV1ciaxrZ8vMkm-lmgk2KH4XR0-IwzMm7cl-h/s1600/Kandy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLw5TkLobxkote4q8LdVyIMnbTWeF6IN6N3Yk-PeCWAtS6huaFw6WcEXy8ZI_3XuNyZbtEnAyvjpcss9UJLiJuq5hqrz_cq0mC4Y03d5gSV1ciaxrZ8vMkm-lmgk2KH4XR0-IwzMm7cl-h/s320/Kandy.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ5v_Fn1pA8sVbA3rdJAXXFV304gJW3785kfnEeAM2IWcEwxJ3feLN2JwPMpqVRSUfuW3_btHCPoy_BhsW75HgHCmiTdp-iWbdGfyxxpiXLmfOz-mo2zfuugJ1_MhkV1xGZV5tHE8Dagl3/s1600/84640013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ5v_Fn1pA8sVbA3rdJAXXFV304gJW3785kfnEeAM2IWcEwxJ3feLN2JwPMpqVRSUfuW3_btHCPoy_BhsW75HgHCmiTdp-iWbdGfyxxpiXLmfOz-mo2zfuugJ1_MhkV1xGZV5tHE8Dagl3/s400/84640013.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Our baby when he was tiny (about 5.5 weeks)! This is the picture we saw on petfinder.com that brought us to the shelter to meet him!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEo1hF-M_uZaDdxgfAouJ7jyCxtS0ZO8aAA661_Q9PJuf2P-NyWBzMB3_or3FGQghWqa2kTyod86WwomadhV1rBRjPlsG49zoTjQ8y0BvtMXWzqBdt01kwVxBenia_pVBwuXj3gL2kx4SZ/s1600/84640005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEo1hF-M_uZaDdxgfAouJ7jyCxtS0ZO8aAA661_Q9PJuf2P-NyWBzMB3_or3FGQghWqa2kTyod86WwomadhV1rBRjPlsG49zoTjQ8y0BvtMXWzqBdt01kwVxBenia_pVBwuXj3gL2kx4SZ/s400/84640005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Lewis and his brother J.J.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgYGrV0-EZLOF_UqJknPmdPAqGmZkZnxPdG_QnkmBCpLjjKre5SvAcTpI9MqzSzmYvSW4ucZGbHHPWZd3_d4ql23bI1S98oHyU9ZxCNyQDuab4iPjJgo3dU9oDWbnTwOj2DD0CBWxr8pEj/s1600/Lewis+%26+J.J.+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgYGrV0-EZLOF_UqJknPmdPAqGmZkZnxPdG_QnkmBCpLjjKre5SvAcTpI9MqzSzmYvSW4ucZGbHHPWZd3_d4ql23bI1S98oHyU9ZxCNyQDuab4iPjJgo3dU9oDWbnTwOj2DD0CBWxr8pEj/s400/Lewis+%26+J.J.+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Here are the brothers! They looked just like this on the day we met them! What a hard choice. J.J. has been adopted now, though, so we hope he's happy there.<br />
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As if abandonment, a gunshot wound, rescue and travel up north weren't enough, Kandy and her puppies all had hookworms, an intestinal parasite named for its nasty hook-like bite. According to Lew's medical records, he was treated on April 18th. On the very same day, he also went through his first round of vaccinations, the microchipping process <b>and</b> he was neutered! And yet, on April 24, 2010, he was a happy, social puppy just waiting to be taken home. We are so grateful to all the people who helped Lew and his family, especially his foster mom, Judy and the shelter! I doubt that our adoption fee even came close to covering all their expenses. The adoption counselor we met with was so kind, and the shelter was so happy to help these dogs. It was a lovely place! We think that must be why Lewis is such a happy, confident little pup. And we thought getting up with him at night, cleaning up after him, making sure he doesn't chew anything he shouldn't, training him and housebreaking him was a lot of work! These jobs seem so small now that we know all about his past.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-86415833547892525352010-05-04T09:06:00.000-04:002010-05-04T09:06:29.790-04:00Back! With a new theme...Dear reader(s),<br />
Forgive me for having been absent so long. I haven't crafted for months and months, and so have not had many adventures in the land of Etsy. I have another adventure in my life, however, that I can write about!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOacRzYd-LYBTBc9H7dqfBd637Q9m9NLXLt_GxOfcfjv8yvJa6t6RJH2IDhkV9LxoRn-C9qwDiIjrEXzTxzKjMlsL5iuhy1Z_y1kfRm2rCkViYc3FXl1G8sAHWUEKr1QwELlc_o6v_hk6/s1600/CIMG0171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOacRzYd-LYBTBc9H7dqfBd637Q9m9NLXLt_GxOfcfjv8yvJa6t6RJH2IDhkV9LxoRn-C9qwDiIjrEXzTxzKjMlsL5iuhy1Z_y1kfRm2rCkViYc3FXl1G8sAHWUEKr1QwELlc_o6v_hk6/s400/CIMG0171.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>His name is Lewis! This photo of Lew and his favorite toy was taken on my awesome new point-and-shoot camera (something that will definitely come in handy when I do start crafting again) on 4/30 in my living room. We adopted Lewis from Mount Pleasant Animal Shelter in New Jersey (www.njshelter.org) after seeing his adorable mug on petfinder.com. I'll tell our story first, and then tell you his.<br />
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My husband and I have always planned on having children. I have always seen a dog as a member of our expanding family, as well. After spending some time with my sister, her newborn baby boy, her three-year-old daughter, her husband and their dog, I learned a few things about babies and time management! The two do not seem to co-exist. My sister told me that if I wanted a puppy, I should get one before I have kids. Their labradoodle Buster was a lot of work, and well worth the effort. What a fantastic dog! But they trained him before their daughter was born. By the time she came along, the dog was well-trained and able to adapt to life with a baby.<br />
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When I came home, I discussed the idea with my husband. After a few weeks of careful research into dog/puppy training and learning about breeders and shelters in our area, we decided that adoption was the route for us. We eventually decided to look for a Beagle or Beagle mix, because these dogs are known for being good with kids and seem like the right size for us (not to small, not too big, just right!). My husband wanted to wait until summer, but when we decided to move in August, it seemed that sooner was better than later--let's not move a poor puppy to too many new homes in just a few months! (We decided not to adopt and adult dog for the sake of our cat, although I appreciate that that might sound odd. Dinah the Cat is an extremely important member of our family. At twelve-years-old, she was not going to change her ways for any dog. We read that adult cats adapt to life with puppies pretty well because, well, puppies annoy them but don't try to replace them in the "pack order"!)<br />
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We began to look for puppies at www.petfinder.com, a great website for anyone looking to adopt any kind of animal of any size or age. We submitted an application for a Beagle Mix puppy known as Sea Monkey. He was perfect in every way! He had been born and fostered in a foster home in the country! He had never known life on the street! He would have none of the issues common among shelter dogs! He went to another family.<br />
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I was shocked at how hard I took this. Had they rejected us for some reason? Had someone else just gotten there first? What did we do wrong? I wanted to visit a shelter the very next day. I wanted a puppy. I wanted a puppy right now! My husband calmed me down; he always does. He got me to agree to wait <b>two</b> days.<br />
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On Saturday, April 24th, we visited two shelters. The SPCA of Westchester County was a wonderful place! The cat house was enormous and full of wonderful places to climb! The dogs had plenty of room and were walked regularly! This was no crowded building with sad animals in cramped cages. This was perfect! Except for one thing--the two puppies we had come to see were at the vet. Kennel cough. We left, slightly encouraged, but also sad. We drove to New Jersey, to the Mount Pleasant Animal Shelter, telling ourselves that we would not get our hopes up too high. This was the first day the two Beagle Mix puppies we wanted to meet were available for adoption, but "members" who pay a fee for extended adoption counseling services were going to get first pick. We got there as soon as members of the regular public were allowed in.<br />
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Right inside the door, just in front of a tall reception desk, we saw them! Two perfect, adorable, tiny eight-week-old puppies with eyes to melt your heart and full of kisses. Before we knew it, we had one, then the other, then both with us in a quiet room to play with and get to know. Suddenly, a strange and unanticipated possibility arose--we would have to choose between two adorable puppies and leave a sibling behind! Steeling ourselves, we checked out the puppies' interest in people, ability to react to loud sounds (a hand clap, keys dropped on the floor), submissive behavior (would he let us hold him on his back, belly exposed?). One puppy just tested better, as cold as that sounds. We had made our choice. Before we knew it, they had called our landlord, approved our application and had actually given us a puppy! We had a puppy! We couldn't believe it! He was happy and loving, with a waggy tail, floppy ears, a patch over one eye and funny coloring all over--a Beagle mixed with either an Australian Shepherd or an Australian Cattle Dog. He loved being held. He was neutered and microchipped. He was perfect! How had we ever considered another dog? This was clearly meant to be! And he even fit perfectly into the name we both loved--Lewis. After a very long time trying to pick out the perfect equipment at the PetSmart across the parking lot from the shelter (new-parent jitters! was this right for him? what about that? oh we have so many coupons!), we got in the car, Lewis on my lap, and started for home. We were sad to leave Lewis's brother behind, but he was just so cute, we were sure someone would take him home soon. This puppy, this Lewis, was our puppy, and our home was now his home.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONfQJz-_Evhsu-dIaPuxeLafg-_eqKOMiU3N9rU00M-LVPrV6po0MplhaiXYtxZfNn3SFvwONHy3cBqCCHXBbstcphmg4-n2w0IAD2FqY1JxblS0G7OUXoz3kilmWLdIQeLZTt7QIDa_w/s1600/CIMG0179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONfQJz-_Evhsu-dIaPuxeLafg-_eqKOMiU3N9rU00M-LVPrV6po0MplhaiXYtxZfNn3SFvwONHy3cBqCCHXBbstcphmg4-n2w0IAD2FqY1JxblS0G7OUXoz3kilmWLdIQeLZTt7QIDa_w/s400/CIMG0179.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>(Lewis on his adoptive daddy's lap)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-92158634707483624152009-09-03T19:11:00.000-04:002009-09-03T19:11:20.855-04:00A Strange Interest: The HoneybeesI happen to love honeybees and have been keeping an eye on the "colony collapse disorder" story. I found this video clip--it's fascinating!<br />
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<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lE-8QuBDkkw&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lE-8QuBDkkw&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-45378250333303544502009-09-01T15:12:00.002-04:002009-09-01T17:15:08.789-04:00Etsy Treasury fun!<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I woke up today with a cold or some sort of allergy attack. To make myself feel better, and because the timing was right, I made an Etsy treasury of all things <i>gingery</i>. Ginger always makes me feel better. An Etsy treasury is like a little mini gallery that, if you're quick and have an Etsy account, you get to curate! So here is a link to my collection of ginger things made/sold by other Etsians. You'll be surprised at everything I found and, I hope, cheered up! I sure was.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/treasury_list_west.php?room_id=66837">http://www.etsy.com/treasury_list_west.php?room_id=66837</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-33329316729308667892009-09-01T03:08:00.004-04:002009-09-01T03:11:47.696-04:00The Longest Day: Why do I love the first day of school?<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I'm posting this at about 3 am Eastern time because, well, I just woke up and find myself with some time on my hands for the first time in awhile.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
Monday, August 31: The First Day of School. Cue frantic music. I spent Sunday avoiding preparations and then completing them before going to bed at a reasonable hour.<br />
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Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a reasonable hour when you teach a class that starts at 8:15. I'm going to have to develop a sleeping pill habit to get me to be at 10. I sleep. Lots. I wake up late. Shockingly late, often. But I wanted to take that class on Virginia Woolf, and they said well we can only offer you this teaching schedule if you have such and such a time constraint. I thought oh, I can do it. I've done it before. I have. It was painful, then, too. Funny how we forget these things. At any rate, one of the perks to having a job-searching and supportive husband is that he can be very helpful with practical things like getting one in the shower on time, etc. He also helped me bring coffee and donuts to my students who, if you ask me, were under-appreciative! I was not and drank far too much coffee, ate far too much sugar and, after teaching one class at 8:15 and another at 10:15, promptly came home and passed out. I noted ironically before crashing, that the 8:15 section actually seemed more awake than the 10:15. Perhaps if we know we're doing something before 9 am, we psych ourselves up for it!</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
Charming husband again shook me out of my stupor, this time so that I could attend class. To my eternal surprise, I am on time for things when I ask for his help. Lovely man! It turns out that I am actually capable of leaving the house with enough time to metaphorically hike from Queens to Manhattan on the F train before class actually begins. Despite being very excited by class, classmates, professor and material, I found myself unable to explain even to Husband what it's actually about. You see, we're studying the "non-normative" in writing, in the classroom, in the world, and it falls within both the field of "queer studies" and of "composition and rhetoric." "Comp/rhet," as it is more fondly known in my world, consists of teaching about teaching about writing. So you can see where things might get a bit complicated. It all makes sense in the classroom, but once you leave it can take awhile before you're able to articulate what it is that you've actually learned. I can say this: I'll be learning a lot about teaching and about writing and about the teaching of writing, and the course allows for exploration and movement that I see as very personal and wonderful. A great opportunity to know more about myself as teacher, writer, student, explorer. Needless to say, the professor put us all at ease; one does not feel comfortable exploring such personal things with an intimidating guy.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
After eating dinner tonight, I went right to sleep for a little over 6 hours, and woke with a headache and massive dehydration. It turns out that staying up all night worrying that my students will hate my, my professor will hate me and I'll fail out of graduate school + way too much coffee + not enough water = a very confused body. </div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
I have always loved the first day of school. I look forward to it every year. But the night before, I stay awake with anxiety and I spend the day rushing around trying to be perfect! Why, oh why, do I love the first day of school? The answer is simple--a writer and lover of literature cannot help but love opening a new book.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-64890439192665103292009-08-22T23:53:00.000-04:002009-08-22T23:53:49.566-04:00A First: Sewing My Own Handbag<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My family has enough to live well, and for that I am grateful! But let's just say that the budget in our household does not include enough money for me to purchase the handbag I want--a lovely leather bag made by fellow Etsian <a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=23775633">jennyndesign</a>. So I set out to find a sewing pattern and the proper materials and here I go. There probably is a cheaper handbag out there, but I had several specific requirements. It couldn't fall apart. It had to be gray so that it could match both brown and black shoes but still be dark enough not to show dirt or dust. I got sick of shopping for something unique, so the idea of making one myself came up. I'm pretty good at sewing. Other Etsians make and sell them. I'm not going to start up a handbag shop anytime soon. But the "exterior panels" of handbag number 1. The pattern comes from <a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=28405160">Ali Foster Patterns</a>. So here's what it's supposed to look like:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWYnisvM2TddWuDDr08aPQ98h5-NLgXc7NrtEBvpIcTzuR8BluWrbdfG2RV2hgLor3PMjDgT2I3OsI7XHP59Z2j-EAsev7E39E18PMe6KEKdOwXwdHEW3oIUjaA8pcuLQnV_Jnuf3WUDJ/s1600-h/sewing+pattern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWYnisvM2TddWuDDr08aPQ98h5-NLgXc7NrtEBvpIcTzuR8BluWrbdfG2RV2hgLor3PMjDgT2I3OsI7XHP59Z2j-EAsev7E39E18PMe6KEKdOwXwdHEW3oIUjaA8pcuLQnV_Jnuf3WUDJ/s320/sewing+pattern.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I chose different fabric, but by the same designer you see in the sample, Amy Butler. The outside looks like this so far:</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZv4c4wqmxDVUdzB9k-UCE6cL4PCzGl1JD5PYY7pZS1fyvrJZSFR3bNJrQGdu7ZZlOBxesZS1F7EtxhiKhwbc5oJConrbTXF0V7qC4tnYzi3_YpcJuAgSoGpsy3P_sn45PCIN3TIfGGzN/s1600-h/IMG_4647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZv4c4wqmxDVUdzB9k-UCE6cL4PCzGl1JD5PYY7pZS1fyvrJZSFR3bNJrQGdu7ZZlOBxesZS1F7EtxhiKhwbc5oJConrbTXF0V7qC4tnYzi3_YpcJuAgSoGpsy3P_sn45PCIN3TIfGGzN/s400/IMG_4647.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">What you can't see is that I have basted a "stiffening non-fusible interfacing" to the other side of the that piece. Here is a closeup of the fabulous covered button I made (and the button tab):</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECtZMOuHonEJZseagx5GB2A0jxIhgv-YK-nAYEzxKUofqXeqqgBmh-Fd4cdDwd7EyP1UVVdT4J8h-SXrvR0dGi-EpvvoiT2KPNOjgqy39QoE1wycPbyYMIHTzd0VQesNVNI3oO1eNqzIA/s1600-h/IMG_4649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECtZMOuHonEJZseagx5GB2A0jxIhgv-YK-nAYEzxKUofqXeqqgBmh-Fd4cdDwd7EyP1UVVdT4J8h-SXrvR0dGi-EpvvoiT2KPNOjgqy39QoE1wycPbyYMIHTzd0VQesNVNI3oO1eNqzIA/s400/IMG_4649.JPG" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> And, of course, no sewing project of mine would be complete without some interference from Dinah, the lovely cat who loves to be at the center of everything!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsHjHWeTdDRTUIdlN-DwIhfsN_1hrqn173VvLTDkhiUrqayr4xcgAMzwIBSaGRZqNMwIWVxI86_3_hbsC41Es1kZuG1mzBLv79-1NfCtkskWYBxqVb36ifZlqljoQQQjO0_SiVuutqF8-/s1600-h/IMG_4651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsHjHWeTdDRTUIdlN-DwIhfsN_1hrqn173VvLTDkhiUrqayr4xcgAMzwIBSaGRZqNMwIWVxI86_3_hbsC41Es1kZuG1mzBLv79-1NfCtkskWYBxqVb36ifZlqljoQQQjO0_SiVuutqF8-/s400/IMG_4651.JPG" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">She slept on the pieces I had carefully ironed and laid out on the piano bench all day long... but she's so cute! I was willing to re-iron. Those polka dots she's got her arm around are going to be the inside of the bag eventually!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">That's all for today, I'm off to sew the two exterior pieces to the together and do some weird thing to the corners to "add shape." </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-40201642062331856552009-08-21T17:17:00.002-04:002009-08-21T18:53:32.845-04:00Dinah's Friends (or not) and English Literature<span style="font-family:arial;">Good evening everyone (well, if it is evening where you are</span><span style="font-family:arial;">). I've just finished sifting through email and got my first assignment for the year-- I'll be taking a class on "queer" as in "odd" communication and exploring what it means for writing (why does it make us college teachers so upset? why can't we find it more useful? when is it useful? etc.) and the assignment just happens to include some pretty intimidating work. Plato anyone? Roland Barthes? To name two of four readings to be completed during the last weeks of summer vacation. I don't want to complain, except about the Plato, I never can bring myself to enjoy Plato, because I'm one of those odd people who likes reading about writing or (duh duh duh!) THEORY as it's more commonly known.<br />
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<a href="http://www.dinahsfriends.com">Dinah's Friends</a> is my creative outlet for now, since I have paralyzed myself regarding my writing. I don't have writers block, since it doesn't exist. No, I have what fellow Barnard alumna Anna Quindlen so aptly calls the fear of writing well. I suppose this is a way of overcoming that, this blog. Here's hoping. At any rate, Dinah's Friends, for those who don't know, is my little shop on Etsy, a marvelous online marketplace for things handmade or vintage or supplies for things handmade. It's named after my cat, Dinah, and I sell little sculptures made of wool as well as jewelry that features wool sculptures or designs. It's all done using a technique called needle felting that essentially involves poking a barbed needle through fluffy wool (after it's dyed, before it's spun into yarn) until it makes a shape.<br />
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I find that I need the creative outlet desperately. I do love teaching (will I still say that when I'm teaching at 8 am in two weeks?) and learning and all that, but I must must must get out of my head. What better way of getting out of my head than using my hands to poke at things with a sharp tool? Perhaps I should start grunting while working. Me poke. Me no think. Lately I've been loving the puppies:<br />
</span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=28413115">The Corgi</a></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxG2leeYKoZG5G7v-FogZw-jsyW5Koe91MfnphQuRIp_jCgxzg0H9bMOtAgAibeQDnn3n9UmZkwI8f8Sw_hCKAwnY9AzLzLvlo-hw7zocJAZPWvuy8Wvpbs9hMdlOMD8DYiKG7_O6izKAF/s1600-h/IMG_4625.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxG2leeYKoZG5G7v-FogZw-jsyW5Koe91MfnphQuRIp_jCgxzg0H9bMOtAgAibeQDnn3n9UmZkwI8f8Sw_hCKAwnY9AzLzLvlo-hw7zocJAZPWvuy8Wvpbs9hMdlOMD8DYiKG7_O6izKAF/s320/IMG_4625.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372535087412012658" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=26066437">The Dalmation</a></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT8iB2O7GqcABcvkv3ln_V8y52T_1gPkXt5rKpM-ciHTPfrb3NTYlH1RkW2sc3-X4WeNgaHTEuK91l1hWVcbaKqowY5Ud1KnBeeW1suCFC1MrgmZ7WGOnWBnGsPbP5Aa3G22-3Ard_0L3Q/s1600-h/IMG_4325.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT8iB2O7GqcABcvkv3ln_V8y52T_1gPkXt5rKpM-ciHTPfrb3NTYlH1RkW2sc3-X4WeNgaHTEuK91l1hWVcbaKqowY5Ud1KnBeeW1suCFC1MrgmZ7WGOnWBnGsPbP5Aa3G22-3Ard_0L3Q/s320/IMG_4325.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372535604246830690" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=28777319">The Jack Russell Terrier</a></span><br />
</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZA2RATILKnmuA0KjInUsshGydus9M3P_beLLsN8kgTq06seIQBF-NohTv6C03Zy7Wdhxe_R5tXizYOZG6n8cn1J5LZgZSxlopM57YAJv_G1xS8BJmojLjLDOEPywyZKgqyj2kWl7v2Kqo/s1600-h/IMG_4633.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZA2RATILKnmuA0KjInUsshGydus9M3P_beLLsN8kgTq06seIQBF-NohTv6C03Zy7Wdhxe_R5tXizYOZG6n8cn1J5LZgZSxlopM57YAJv_G1xS8BJmojLjLDOEPywyZKgqyj2kWl7v2Kqo/s320/IMG_4633.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372535597777450066" border="0" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family:arial;">Actually, I even got sick of the needle felting recently, which accounts for a sort of slow-down in new items listed in my shop. It began when I quit smoking--hooray for me!--and needed something all-absorbing. So I sewed myself a dress! It's quite lovely. Vintage pattern purchased on Etsy. Vintage fabric handed down from Husband's great grandmother. She kept everything in beautiful condition. I never had the chance to meet her, but I do feel I have a sense of her having used her fabric, her wicker storage basket for my wool, her metal thimble that looks about a hundred years old. Mother-In-Law, or Ma as she likes to be called, treats me like her own daughter and gave me such a lovely tour through her grandmother's things. It's nice to feel part of that tradition as well as my own mother's family, who all sewed their own clothes, even my mom.<br />
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I recently found some wool and picked up another skill learned in childhood--I crocheted myself a hat! I found a very cool pattern (on Etsy, where else?) and now have a crocheted version of a riding had done with a big hook and very very bulky merino. I should be very warm come winter. It did feel a little silly, as it's about 90 degrees outside right now, but I won't have time when it's cold.<br />
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Finally, I need a new handbag and laptop sleeve to protect my precious MacBook called Jane (after Austen of course--I'm a geek in case you hadn't noticed already), and couldn't justify spending the money on a premade version of either. Husband was laid off, you see, and I make no money on my fellowship. So as soon as all the materials I need have been collected I'll be making an adorable little handbag as well as a padded laptop sleeve! Pictures of progress will appear here shortly.<br />
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If anyone knows of a fabric store in Queens, NY, please pass on the info, because I haven't been able to find anything but craft shops. They don't carry batting, fabric, etc, and buying everything online takes so much patience!<br />
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6628146242328871562.post-30821193721518666332009-08-20T16:49:00.001-04:002009-08-21T18:49:24.359-04:00An Introduction<span style="font-family: arial;">Welcome, dear readers! Perhaps you found this spot via my Etsy shop, <a href="http://www.dinahsfriends.com/">Dinah's Friends</a>, or on my <a href="http://artist.to/dinahsfriends">Facebook page</a>; well, strangers and friends, welcome to my blog. I'm a graduate student in English literature, and I have my own small business selling crafts online. I'll be writing about my studies, my teaching (I teach freshman English here in New York City), my crafting and my life in general. I can't wait to see what this space becomes over time! Thanks for reading. That's all for today!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0